


The Event

by Hannibals_Jorts



Series: Like Cracked Porcelain [3]
Category: Penny Dreadful (TV)
Genre: Awkwardness, Celebrations, Depression, Egyptology, F/M, Friendship, London, Mental Health Issues, Other, Platonic Relationships, Shyness, The Ferdinand Lyle School of Life Advice, Therapy, Victorian Attitudes, happiness, joy
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-07-08
Packaged: 2018-07-22 05:59:40
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,521
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7422637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hannibals_Jorts/pseuds/Hannibals_Jorts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ferdinand Lyle is delighted to receive an invitation to call upon Vanessa Ives, whom he has not seen in some time. When he arrives, he receives wonderful news: Vanessa is in love and wishes him to help her plan the social event of the season - the introduction of her love to a group of select friends. Years of training in social graces hasn’t prepared Ferdinand for meeting Vanessa’s strange new beau, but a lifetime of instruction in suffering the cruelties of others has trained him in finding the good in everyone.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Event

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place after season 2, does not acknowledge season 3 other than Vanessa’s depression.
> 
> Part 3 of the “Like Cracked Porcelain” series.

Although Ferdinand’s favorite place was and always would be his office, with its collections of scarabs, papyri, ushabti, ferns, and tapestries, he loved _being_ places. He loved paying calls on friends, going to shops, eating meals out, attending the opera, taking whiskey and cigars, and all the other sophisticated offerings of the city.

What he did not care for was _going_ places.

Now he made his way down the crowded byway, keeping his body as tightly contracted as possible to avoid touching anyone. It was not a fear of germs that troubled him; more a fear of some ruffian imagining he meant offense if he brushed against them, or of the same sort glimpsing his curled hair and rouged cheeks and making some loathsome comment. He hid himself under a plain black bowler and gray tartan cape, keeping his head tilted down as he walked.

_If only I could afford a hansom._

Hidden up his sleeve was a tiny revolver given to him by Mr. Ethan Chandler. _‘To My Dear Ferdinand, Happy Hunting In the Museum’_ went the inscription on the bulbous walnut handle. The gun was nearly too small for the text. 

_What a delight to hear from Miss Ives, especially after her extended absence from society. How serendipitous, too; only this morning I found my card for Dr. Seward._

With something that might have passed for a sixth sense, he noted a group of working-class men standing around the outside of a pub up ahead, laughing and smoking. He deftly changed course and crossed the street, walked along it for twenty paces, and crossed back, threading his way through the hansom cabs, horses, and pedestrians with no conscious thought.

_I do hope she’s well. If not, I have the card and a veritable arsenal of gentle instruments with which to probe the delicacy of making such a suggestion. ‘Hello, so good to see you, thank you for having me, do you happen to be in need of an alienist? They’re all the rage among we fashionable pioneers on the fringe of polite society, don’t you know!’_

He stifled a chuckle at the indelicacy of the question.

Soon he was bruising his knuckles on the formidable door of Grandich Place.

Almost immediately, he heard her shoes tapping on the hardwood floor within.

_It’s been so long!_

He glanced around before removing his hat and fluffing his curls.

The door creaked open.

“Mr. Lyle!” Vanessa cried in delight. She wore a blouse of dark gold and black stripes, and a long black skirt. A rectangular belt buckle of silver ivy gleamed at her slim waist. Best of all was the bright sincerity of her pleasure at seeing him. “Do come in!”

_Everyone should have so welcoming a family to visit, now and then._

Suffused with joy, a smile lifted his pinkened cheeks. “Oh my dear,” he said, taking her hand, “So good to see you!”

She drew him into the house. “Thank you for coming!”

“How could I not? It’s been ages!” he said. He ran an eye over the interior, and was glad to see it spotless. A scent of cleaning products tinged the air, which he found appropriate. He shrugged off his drab coat, revealing a suit of plum velvet beneath. “Tell me, how’ve you been?”

“To be honest, I was not well for some small time.”

She took his things and took him by the hand, leading him inside as the door swung shut. She led him into the study, her fingers strong but the skin soft. He was delivered to the divan, and she hung up his hat and coat on the rack then joined him on the plush leather cushion.

“I fell under a spell of melancholy for a month, with all its usual ailments: lethargy, domestic matters left unattended, paying no calls, and taking no visitors. It was despair, I think.”

“Oh my.” He pressed his hand to his chest. "I'm so sorry to hear." 

“At my lowest I found myself sitting on the floor in the kitchen, surrounded by piles of unwashed dishes, drinking milk from the bottle and eating from the grocery crate like some ravening stray.”

He gasped. “Oh my dear, had I but known I should have come right away! In fact…” he began digging in the pocket of his waistcoat for Dr. Seward’s card.

She shook her head. “I wouldn’t have seen you. I saw no one, and what few letters I did reply to were empty of real content. No one knew of my melancholia, and I saw no reason to speak of it.”

“Well then, how?” He let go of the card and folded his hands on his knee. “What marvelous transformation took you from that dreadful place and back to the radiant beauty I see before me?”

She smiled at the compliment. “A friend helped me back to myself. He knocked on the kitchen door, and I could see his beautiful eyes through the frosted glass, though he could not see me. I let him in, and he right away saw I was in despair. I leaned upon his strong shoulder for a time, and he helped me regain my stride. Any of my friends would have been glad to do the same, I think, but this one is different. I realized quickly I would happily walk alongside him for the rest of our lives.”

“Love! The cure and cause of all life’s ills. Pardon me if I swoon.” His eyes welled and he raised a hand to his cheek. “Beneath the powder I assure you I am blushing with joy. How wonderful! Congratulations, my dear!”

She nodded in thanks.

He dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief. “So? Who is this marvelous beau? When will you make his introductions?” His shimmering eyes widened. “Is it someone I know? Can you tell?”

_He must have been someone singular to have caught her heart._

“He’s in the house today, in fact. I was hoping to introduce you, and that I could rely on you to help plan a party to welcome him into society.”

His breath hissed from his teeth in excitement. “Oh my dear, living together already? How _scandalous_ and Bohemian! And I should be delighted to help you. We shall make such a din as to raise the dead!”

"Raise the...!" Her lips twisted to suppress a laugh as she rose from the divan, and offered him a hand. “Nothing too riotous, if you please. He’s rather a… shy and scholarly sort.”

He beamed up at her and rose, reshaping the curls on his forehead and fussing with his pocket square. “Oh, I had no idea I would be meeting your heart’s treasure today. I would have worn more blue.”

She led him across the front hall to the double doors of the ball room.

Ferdinand's brow knitted at sight of the doors. 

 _Oh, THAT room again. When last I saw it, Sir Malcolm was having some kind of fit as he fought off the influence of the wretched Evelyn Poole._ Ferdinand had wrestled with guilt for some time over his introduction of Poole to Vanessa and company, but consoled himself with the fact that he was one of the many people that Poole had fooled. _If I recall, it was a lovely small ballroom, tall casements along one side, but suffering from years of neglect. Nothing a good dusting couldn’t cure._

She opened both doors. Cool, dim light filled the room from the windows, giving it a somnolent air. Canvases covered the hardwood floors, and square white shapes on the wall indicated portraits hung with cloth to protect them from the depredations of age. Hanging in the middle of the room was a cut-glass chandelier, lowered for maintenance.

But for a workman cleaning the lowered chandelier with a rag, the room was empty.

She strode across the floor, her skirts whispering on the canvas. “Darling, this is the Egyptologist, Mr. Lyle. I’ve told you about him.”

_Who is she talking to? Oh my!_

His back to them, the workman's head turned toward them. He was tall, with broad shoulders. A shock of black hair hid his face from view.

Ferdinand stifled a fascinated gasp. _Oh,marrying below her station, how scandalous indeed. But she has found a diamond in the rough, no doubt. He’s probably a starving artist or musician. So outre!_

He trailed behind her, losing sight of the man. “Mr. Ferdinand Lyle, may I present Mr. John Clare,” she said, stepping aside and smiling.

Ferdinand prided himself on his manners. While many of the aristocracy received their training in social graces from a young age, absorbing rather than learning, he had mercilessly drilled them into himself with the determination of a dedicated social climber. He had mastered not just the Hows, but the Whys as well. Beyond that, he was only too aware of how nerve-wracking meeting members of the aristocracy might be for one not born to it, and so he always did his best to set new acquaintances at ease.

He fixed a kind and welcoming smile on his face, and turned to her paramour.

“Hello, Mr. Lyle,” said a voice barely above a whisper. Burning yellow eyes in a white, scarred face regarded him.

Ferdinand’s heart stuttered, his smile became a fixed grin.

_Holy God, for a moment I thought it was another one of those witches, or a giant member of the same species in a wig. What a shocking countenance! Ah, compose yourself you old bag, you're staring!_

“Hello my dear Mr. Clare,” Ferdinand managed, through clenched teeth, as he offered his hand. He swallowed and went on. “Such a pleasure to meet the man who has captured the heart of our Miss Ives.”

A cold hand with fingers like steel bands took his own, and shook it. Mr. Clare’s long frame bent in a short bow. “Thank you, Mr. Lyle. Yes, it is a pleasure.”

The creature’s yellow eyes darted to hers.

She smiled and nodded encouragement.

 _Good God… is he afraid of me?_ “It is so kind of you to help us plan our event,” the round white face continued as Clare released Ferdinand’s hand.

“You are most welcome. And…” Ferdinand’s eyes flicked between them as he searched for something to say. “… and such a _lovely_ couple you make! It does my heart good.”

“Ever the charmer,” Vanessa replied, tipping him an amused wink. “I’ll make some tea while you get to know one another.”

The sound of her muffled footsteps on the canvas accompanied her from the room.

Ferdinand smiled up into the forbidding face.

_I feel like a sailor on a little boat at sea, wondering whether the gathering storm clouds will smite me from the face of the Earth._

He patted his hair, let out a little nervous laugh, and then boldly took Mr. Clare by the arm. It was like holding onto an oaken staircase bannister dressed in a shirt.

Mr. Clare’s black brows pinched together in confusion.

_And now, the gamble._

“Please, you must tell me all about yourself and how you met. Humor a dusty old dandy with tales of romance and passion. Not too much passion of course, just the usual amount.”

To his relief and satisfaction, some of the stiffness went out of the figure’s frame and the dark brows relaxed.

“We’ve known each other for some years,” Mr. Clare began, some of the whisper leaving his voice. “We met at--at a medical facility when Miss Ives was unwell. It was my job to look after her.”

“A caregiver! I knew it. You had the look of a generous soul,” Ferdinand said, warming to his role of doting elderly relative. He deftly ignored the mention of a medical facility.

“Thank you. We fell out of acquaintance for some time, until just last year. She found me in... ah…” He trailed off, uncertain how to continue.

 _“Reduced circumstances,”_ Ferdinand supplied. “Such a helpful phrase, it could mean anything!”

Mr. Clare nodded in relief. “Yes. And we became friends, closer than before. Much had happened in the intervening years, including my ...accident." The man's hand rose to touch a massive scar at his temple, which had previously been unnoticeable under his curtain of hair. "Only a few days ago I came to see that she was well, but found she was not. After spending some time together, we realized our unique paths ran parallel. We've resolved to walk them together.”

Ferdinand saw the question that the poor man had left open, and resolved to dodge it. “And we are so _relieved_ you survived whatever accident it was, and remain with us today,” he said, patting the arm.

Tension ran from the man’s face, and he even smiled, albeit mostly at the floor. “Thank you.”

Ferdinand pursed his lips in thought.

_He is a gentle, shy creature, no doubt. It would take the ghouls of high society less than five minutes to eat him down to bones and move on in search of some new entertainment. He’s fortunate to have found her, and she will help shield him from their depredations, but she cannot protect him forever._

“My dearest new friend, may I give you some advice?” he asked, looking up into the yellow eyes.

The ravaged face tensed again, but Mr. Clare replied with a curt, “Yes.”

“I can tell you have been hurt in the past, as have we all in this strange little company. It would be the very epitome of foolishness to point out to you how cruel the world can be, I think. But you must not go through life waiting to be hurt. Instead, turn your face to the ones you trust. Keep them close by. Do your best to be worthy of them, _always._ There will never be a time when we are not made to suffer the indignities of life, but knowing we do not suffer them alone can be more powerful than the pain they cause. Do you understand?”

Mr. Clare nodded. “Yes.”

“At times in life, you will encounter monsters. It is unavoidable. But being subjected to wretched people now and then is not the end of your life. Learn their tricks and habits, and find your own ways of mitigating the effect such creatures have. But never become as hideous in your behavior as they are—then, you are completely lost.”

A light of kinship grew in Mr. Clare’s eyes. “I thank you, Mr. Lyle. I appreciate it.”

_Who better understands the cruelties of the world than people like us?_

He shook away the somber mood with a flick of his head. “And now, my dear…” Ferdinand swept his arm at the room. “Tell me your vision for our event. I must know color schemes, flowers, themes… Oh! How about an Egyptian theme? So in vogue, and so easy to 'borrow' some exotic items from work to perfect the atmosphere. There’s a veritable treasure trove in the basement; creepy down there, but I’m quite prepared for the worst, you know...” He patted his coat pocket with a knowing look. 


End file.
